How to Get Rid of Your Ma's Boyfriend
by LexiLopezi
Summary: Gonna attempt a multichapter TF2 fanfic. Title says all you need to know.
1. Home For The Holidays

**How To Get Rid Of Your Ma's Boyfriend**

_A/N: Apparently this hasn't been done yet. DIBS ON THE STORY IDEA! I came up with it anyways. As with all my stories, I own nothing. This _is_ fanfiction. Apologies to Jinny the Kisaragi for using Emma without her permission. More apologies to ChaosandMayhem for using her Scout's brothers without asking. I seem to be stealing lots of things. Watch your valuables, people._

Scout took a deep breath before knocking on the door. It was flung wide open, and he immediately got rugby tackled by two burly young men.

"Ey, Scout. How ya been?"

"Danny! Vince! Where's ev'ryone else?"

Vince counted on his fingers. "Charlie's in jail fer petty thievery in Florida. Liam joined the Green Berets, he's been shipped off ta Vietnam. Sean's travelin' the world as part o' the Peace Corps. Mack's in Rhode Island, teachin' at Brown, Tom's got 'imself a job at Florida, some accountin' gig. An' Ma's watchin' telly wit' her new boyfriend."

Scout scowled. "We gonna get rid of him?"

Danny nodded. "'Member Jeff?"

"Oh yeah, dat was fun. Bet he nevah went near cotton candy evah again." The eyes of all three boys glazed over in remembrance.

"BOYS! Get back heah!"

"Yes Ma!"

"Yes Ma!"

"Yes Ma!"

* * *

Their mother sat on an overstuffed couch with a man who was all too familiar to Scout. She brightened up at the sight of her youngest son. "Scout, dear, come sit down."

Scout's scowl deepened. He loathed the guy who repeatedly stabbed him and his teammates in the back every day, and now had the nerve to date his Ma. They'd see about that.

"This is Phillipe. He's my new boyfriend. An' if youse three put frogs in his closet, Ah'm gonna know who it was."

Danny affected the most innocent face he could muster, while Vince whistled. A soft whimper emitted from Scout's backpack, causing the red-suited Spy to flinch.

"Whatcha got, li'l bro?"

Scout set a Golden Retriever puppy on the floor. She tilted her head curiously at her new surroundings and used the Power of Cuteness that most baby animals seem to have, except for platypuses.

"Oh yea, dis is Emma. Can we keep her until I have ta go back ta work? Please? She's a stray. None 'a the guys had space for her, an' she's toilet trained. I think."

"A'ight. Long as she don't make a mess."

Scout smirked at the RED Spy. He was too busy inching away from the tiny ball of fluff to notice.


	2. Meet the Babysitter

**How To Get Rid Of Your Ma's Boyfriend **

_A/N: I APOLOGISE FOR STEALING PRACTICALLY EVERYTHING! EVEN THE COVER PIC! Sorry. They were so shiny… Seriously though I own nothing. The characters here belong to Valve, assorted authors in the TF2 archive, and the cover pic I got from that person on deviantArt whose name I forgot. Just search Spy vs Scout, you'll find it. Hmm… I'm using the accent too much. And haven't got the personalities right. MUST WORK ON IT. Many thanks to Vivid Imaginest for the beta work._

* * *

"I gotta go to work. Mrs. Henderson called in sick an' they don't got no one else ta spare. You boys get to know each othah, an' keep da injuries to a minimum, 'kay?"

"'Kay. Bye Ma." Three voices chorused as the door shut with a click. To the RED Spy, that click meant DOOM. Four pairs of eyes turned to stare at him.

"What?"

"…I think Ma's on to us."

"Oh really? What was your firs' clue? Now we have ta be nice to him."

"Hey Francypants, is your name really Phil?"

That caught him off guard.

"_That_ is for me to know."

"Gaaaaawd." Scout flopped in front of the TV to sulk.

"Star Trek won't be on fer hours. Wanna go visit Mrs. Elston?" Danny poked Scout in the shoulder.

"HELL YEAH!" Vince whooped.

The three boys/young men/something in the middle rushed out of the apartment, followed by Emma. A second later, Scout's head popped around the slightly wonky doorframe.

"Ma says we have to get ta know each othah, so you have ta come too."

Spy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers, before reluctantly dragging himself in the same direction.

* * *

The smell of freshly baked cookies wafted out of a small, nondescript door, making everyone who passed by take a deep, appreciative sniff. This was the home of Mrs. Liza Elston, a retired baker. She used to be a part-time baby-sitter of "those little hellions upstairs". They had learned long ago that if you wanted a cookie, you _behaved_.

Three men-boy-things lined up in front of said door, in order of age. Scout inhaled the scent of yummy goodness, a stupid grin on his face. Danny knocked on the door politely.

"Who is it?"

"Danny, Vince, Scout, an' Ma's new boyfriend we have to be nice to 'cause she said so."

_Chink. Clunk. Rattle._

An old lady with a face like a prune opened the door.

"Well, come in then. I've got some brownies-"

She was interrupted by a snarling brown blur that threw itself at Scout, knocking him to the ground.

"ARGH! Bruce! Gerroff!"

A large brown mongrel was having fun covering Scout's face in drool. Emma gave a short, sharp bark, and Bruce turned his head to regard the small growling puffball. They stared at each other while three boys, an old lady, and a Spy got the niceties out of the way. Slowly, Bruce lowered his head to sniff at Emma, who in turn licked Bruce's nose. The two happily followed their humans into Mrs. Elston's house after a moment of cuteness that the Administrator would not have approved of had she witnessed it.

* * *

The living room was overflowing with stereotypical old lady paraphernalia, including knickknacks, family heirlooms that no one actually wanted but didn't dare to throw away, and delicate china firmly locked up in a sturdy oak cabinet lest it escaped and decided to eat people- or broke, whichever came first. Mann Co. was still working on its robotic security teapots.

"I've just made a fresh batch of brownies, but they're still cooling. Vince, measure the flour, 3 ounces. Danny, you get the coffee beans, half a cup. Scout, help me mix the batter. Bruce, you have fun with your little friend. I'll call when you get to lick the batter."

Mrs. Elston shooed Bruce and Emma out of the kitchen.

"Nice little girl, what's her name?" she asked, handing out three aprons to the boys.

"Emma. The guys at work couldn't look aftah her, sose dey let me bring her home fer Christmas."

Spy tried and failed to conceal his smirk, and had to bite his lip to smother his obnoxious giggles when Scout blew a raspberry at him. Both were promptly whacked upside the head with a wooden spoon.

"Jeez!"

"Merde-"

"Language! I may be old, but I'm not deaf, and my grandmother was French. Now, Scout, you want brownies, yes?"

"Yes Mrs. Elston."

"You want special espresso mint cookies, yes?"

"Yes Mrs. Elston."

"Then stop arguing with your ma's new man and MIX THAT BATTER."

"Yes ma'am. Sorry ma'am."

"As for you, mister, this is my kitchen. My kitchen means my rules and my rules are, if you aren't helping, you wait in the living room. And watch your language."

"Oui madame. My apologies."

Scout glared at Spy a final time and gave him the finger while Mrs. Elston turned to inspect Vince's flour.

_Whack!_

"OW!"


	3. Winter Wonderland With Added Pain

**How To Get Rid Of Your Ma's Boyfriend **

_A/N: Many thanks to Vivid Imaginest for the beta work. Exams in a week, no updates until maybe the last week of May. THEN JUNE HOLIDAYS! :D_

* * *

Mrs. Elston let Bruce and Emma lick the last of the batter. Bruce and Emma licked their jaws contentedly, trying to get every last scrap. Yes, it was that good. Do not question Mrs. Elston's cooking. Scout sat in front of the oven, watching the cookies bake.

"They done yet?"

"No."

"How's about now?"

"Still no."

"How's about-"

"How's about if ya don't shaddup I'mma drag you outside an' shove yer head in the snow."

"_Vince_."

"Can we go play in da snow Mrs. Elston? _Pleeeeease?!_" Scout hopped up and down, cookies forgotten.

A well-known fact about Scout was that he loved snow. A lot. Whenever they were stationed at Coldfront, half the time he was having a snowball fight with the RED Scout, and the other half trying to convince the rest of the mercs to join in.

It should not have been possible for a skinny baseball addict and his two brothers that looked like club bouncers to make puppy eyes, but they managed to pull it off quite well.

"Go on then. Be back in an hour an' a half." Mrs. Elston smiled fondly as they cheered and ran out the door. "They were like this when they were younger, too. Would you like to see some pictures?"

Spy inwardly grinned. This would be lovely blackmail material and juicy gossip for a later date.

* * *

"'Ey boys! Lookit who's here." A trio of figures emerged from the neighborhood's maze of alleyways. "Danny. Vince. Scout."

"Felix. Eddie. Toadface."

"'S Tod Feeney to you, dipstick. Whassat thing growin' on your neck?"

"Eh?"

"Just his head, Tod."

"Heard da pond's nice an' cold this time 'a year, wanna go fer a swim?" Vince cracked his knuckles.

"If ya wanna 'splain to my Gramma why I look like some dumbass popsicle." Tod snarled back. Both groups tensed for a moment, then relaxed, macho posturing having reached an agreed quota for the day. Boys are silly sometimes.

"So, Horace still alive?"

"Yeah. Stupid parrot jus' won' die. Bites mah fingahs ev'ryday. Grammy can' feed 'im cause her knees're actin' up. Ah swear he's gonna eat mah brains."

"Nah, those're zombies. That parrot's pure damn evil. Sonuva…"

Idle chitchat with a smattering of colorful language flew around the frosty air while the two groups happily made snow forts. Then, by some unknown signal, _stuff got violent_.

* * *

How six boys managed to obtain massive shiners on their eyes, bruises, and foot-long superficial scratches is beyond anyone. Might have been the fact that snow in Boston isn't very clean. Or it could be because they cheated and put gravel in the snowballs.

Their fight was ended simply because _someone_ decided to throw a snowball at old Mrs. Feeney's window. You know, Tod's Gramma whom was mentioned earlier?

Rock in snowball + window = **SMASH**

"TOD FEENEY!" Old ladies are surprisingly loud. "WHAT DIDJA DO TO MY WINDOW?!"

"Uh oh." Eddie was already halfway home by the second screech.

You do _not_ want to piss off Mrs. Feeney.

"HORACE! SIC 'EM!" A multicolored blur somewhat resembling a rainbow flew our of Mrs Feeney's ex-window. Then latched onto the side of Felix's face. On closer inspection it was a large parrot on steroids. Poor Felix went down screaming and kicking, desperately trying to get away from the sharp beak attached to his earlobe. "Guys! Fellas! Oh gawd, I'm bleeding! Bit 'a help?!"

May I mention that parrots eat nuts, and they use their beaks to crack nutshells?

The ones close enough to hear him, but far enough to be spared Horace the parrot's wrath, gave him an 'are-you-serious, sorry-you're-on-your-own, nice-knowing-you' look.

Nobody messes with Horace.

This is also partially why Scout hates rainbows.


End file.
